


This Sorrowful Life

by frostysunflowers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Feels, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Not A Fix-It, Pain, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sad Ending, Sad Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 18:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: 'Peter feels confused as he steps into the lab, feels like he hasn’t been here for a really long time.Everything looks the same, nothing seems out of place, everything is where it should be.Including the man half buried in a sea of cables and wires with his hair all in disarray and grease smeared over his sleeveless arms...'





	This Sorrowful Life

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read if you haven't seen Endgame. 
> 
> This was written in the space of an hour, born from my intense need to express my feelings somehow because oh man, do I have a lot of them. Had to be done to get it out of my system I think, like seriously, so I can get back to all the fluffy stuff I've got planned because god knows we all need it. Sorry it's sad, I cried a lot when writing this but that's part of the process I guess...hahaha *cries buckets*
> 
> Title stolen from an episode of 'The Walking Dead'. Barely proof-read, can't see for all the tears.

Peter feels confused as he steps into the lab, feels like he hasn’t been here for a really long time.

Everything looks the same, nothing seems out of place, everything is where it should be.

Including the man half buried in a sea of cables and wires with his hair all in disarray and grease smeared over his sleeveless arms. 

''Hey, kid!'' Tony greets cheerily without looking up from the mess. ''How was school?''

School? School was…

He can’t remember.

''Erm,'' Peter says with a frown, ''fine, I think?''

''That good, huh?'' Tony says, finally looking up with a wry grin. ''Glad to see education isn’t being wasted on you, buddy.''

Peter shakes his head, trying to lose the fuzziness he suddenly feels. ''Pfft, I learn more from you anyway.''

''Well I can’t argue with that,'' Tony agrees as he begins to untangle himself. ''Glad you’re here though, as I could really use your help with this…''

They tinker and tweak, playfully bicker and tease, ponder and postulate for what feels like hours and Peter relishes the time, beams back at the lively look on Tony’s face, feels happy knowing that after everything that’s happened, they can still do this, can still be together like this. 

Except…

''Tony…''

That’s odd, Peter thinks with a frown. He only ever calls him Mr Stark. 

''Yeah?''

''…Where are the scars on your arm?''

Tony glances up from the screen in his hands. ''Scars?''

Peter nods carefully, gestures with a suddenly trembling hand at Tony’s right arm. 

''You know…from the gauntlet?''

Tony glances down at the arm, looks back at Peter and there’s something so heartbreakingly sad in his expression that Peter takes a step back, stumbling over the wires lying over the floor. 

''Oh…'' Peter says after a moment, feeling something insidious dance through his stomach. ''That’s, that’s, um…''

''C’mon, kid, we’ve got work to do!''

Tony has an arm around his shoulders and is propelling him back into motion, throwing a wrench into Peter’s hand and barking enthusiastic instructions. 

The moment passes and soon they’re laughing together again, working together in perfect harmony while DUM-E brings them motor oil in chipped coffee mugs and Peter revels in the sound of Tony fondly berating the poor useless bot. The fuzziness in his head comes and goes and he manages to ignore it for a while, but eventually it becomes an intolerable white noise that has him staggering into a table with his hands in his hair.

''Whoa!'' Tony catches him as he leans too far to the side, bracing him up. ''You okay?''

''I don’t-I can’t-''

Peter lifts his head to stare at Tony, to properly look at him. 

He sees the face that he knows so well, sees the trim goatee and the messy dark hair and the dark gaze. 

He looks harder and sees the worry lines by the corners of Tony’s mouth, the tired pallor of his skin, the strange look in his eyes that speaks of sadness and pain.

_But why…_

And then he remembers. 

But it can’t be true, Peter tells himself as he reaches out to grip Tony’s forearms, it can’t be true because he’s here and Tony’s here, they’re both _right here_ -

The air is gone from his lungs and everything is too bright and he can’t get near enough to Tony and it’s just not right something’s _not right_ -

Tony’s hands cup his face and hold him steady, forcing Peter to focus on him. 

''You with me, Spider-baby?''

Tony’s voice jolts Peter back into himself and soon they’re working again, wrapping themselves up in numbers and figures, weaving paths through the science they know so well and Peter just knows something is wrong, that something doesn’t add up, but being with Tony is enough to keep him from dwelling too much.

For a while. 

''I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the start.''

Tony looks up with a confused frown.

''For the start of what, kiddo?''

''For…,'' Peter swallows, suddenly wanting to cry, ''for Morgan.''

That can’t be right, he thinks, because nothing would have stopped him from being there, what could possibly stop him from being there for Tony’s daughter? 

Tony stands in front of him and takes Peter’s quivering shoulders in his hands. 

''I wasn’t there,'' Peter whispers. ''I wish I’d been there.''

''So do I,'' Tony gives him a meaningful squeeze, ''but you’ll be there for the rest.''

''With you too, right?''

The question lingers in the air between them and then Tony is studying Peter’s face intently, greedily, drinking him in as though he can’t get enough of looking at him. The light in his eyes is heavy, sorrowful, but there’s softness there too; fondness and a love that Peter can almost feel for how powerful it suddenly seems. 

''I’m so proud of you, kid,'' Tony tells him, and the smile on his face is his genuine one, ''so damn proud of you.''

Oh.

No…

_No no no._

''Mr Stark-'' Peter chokes on the words, ''- _Tony_ -''

A tear slips down Tony’s cheek and Peter immediately feels himself tearing up. 

''Don’t cry, buddy,'' Tony pleads, reaching up a hand to brush through Peter’s hair.

''But-''

''You know how much you matter, right?'' Tony asks, voice sounding quieter somehow. 

Maybe it’s because something inside Peter is screaming. 

This can’t be real. 

_It can’t be like this._

''How much you’ve always meant to me?''

Peter nods, vision brimming with a wetness that makes Tony’s face blur into a smudge. Arms, strong, safe and familiar wrap him in the tightest hug, holding him as close as physically possible, as though it’ll never be possible to be close enough. 

_Please please please-_

''I miss you so much,'' he mumbles miserably into Tony’s shoulder, inhaling the faint but comforting scent of gasoline and metal. 

''Me too, kid.'' Tony replies gently. ''More than I could ever tell you.''

Peter feels himself begin to crack and fall apart. He grits his teeth, torn between wanting to look into the Tony’s face but unable to pull away from the embrace, wanting to hold on for as long as possible. 

_It’s just not enough._

''It’s okay,'' Tony soothes, running a hand through Peter’s hair again. ''You’re alright…you’ll be alright…''

The tightness of Tony’s arms around him begins to fade away and Peter knows for sure he’s dreaming then, feels the crushing realisation of the truth rapidly consuming him from the inside out like blazing fire and freezing ice all at once. 

Everything flickers and he awakens with a shuddering breath, eyes clenched shut against the darkness, gasping into the night under the unbearable weight of what has happened. He claws at the shirt his face is buried into, breathing in the fading scent that reminds him of smiling and laughing and iron and webs and saving the world and-

_Tony._

He lets out a tortured yell, not caring who can hear him, helpless in the face of his grief, of the unforgiving and relentless agony of his loss. 

_Tony._

And when a small figure crawls into his bed with a wet sniffle, soft hair tickling his face as she curls against him, he knows he’s not alone. 

He holds on to the last living piece of Tony in the whole world and cries.

**Author's Note:**

> I love you Tony Stark, you absolute hero <3
> 
> I'll be ready to talk about it all soon I think, once I've got my thoughts in order, but right now all I can do is feel too much and obsessively read fanfiction to soothe my soul.


End file.
